


Slightly Desperate

by hollinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Stiles is Not a Virgin, Stiles just wanted some damn toast, midnight cravings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollinski/pseuds/hollinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows he could probably spend all hours of the night just looking at the alpha and studying him and losing all other thoughts in him completely, but his growling stomach is getting louder and there’s only one thing that can solve Stiles’ midnight cravings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly Desperate

**Author's Note:**

> First one so it may suck but I'm proud of it anyways.

Stiles was always a shitty sleeper. Actually, scratch that; when he was a little kid he had the uncanny ability to sleep like the dead, anywhere. But, he’s older now, and there are responsibilities and problems and people to think about, and those thoughts keep him up at all hours of the night. Eventually, his mind has changed routine and staying up late was his new natural rhythm.  
Stiles does have to admit, though, Derek helps. Feeling his body heat radiating from the other side of his bed, whether he’s pressed up against him or not, is comforting and soothing in a way that made Stiles’ heart warm and his stomach fuzzy and he's not that whipped so Scott can shut up.  
On this particularly cold night, the alpha had fallen asleep instantly after a day of running around with his betas, hunting and howling and whatever else wolves do during pack time, Stiles wouldn't know. Stiles dozes off for a little while, but it’s not long until he wakes up again. Big, brown eyes open slowly, waiting to be adjusted to the darkness of the room until he sees that his face is inches from Derek’s. Stiles lets his eyes roam over the sleeping man’s face, taking in the stubble from forgetting to shave in the last couple of days, the lips that he could touch with his own if he moved just an inch forward, the messy bed-head that turns Stiles on so much.  
It’s way too easy for Stiles to get lost in Derek.  
Stiles knows he could probably spend all hours of the night just looking at the alpha and studying him and losing all other thoughts in him completely, but his growling stomach is getting louder and there’s only one thing that can solve Stiles’ midnight cravings.  
Toast.  
He slumps out of bed reluctantly, trying not to wake Derek as he sneaks out of their room and into the hallway. For being so loud and clumsy during the day, Stiles can be pretty damn stealthy during the night when he wants to be. Tiptoeing silently to the kitchen, he passes the living room and sees that Scott, Allison and Erica are passed out cold on the couch, the credits to “Shawshank Redemption” scrolling down the screen of their tiny television. He dims the lights in the kitchen as dark as they will go while still allowing a small source of light and gets the bread from the pantry. Taking a piece of white bread from the middle of the loaf (no one eats the ends except for Scott, who is such a freak for doing so), he blindly pats around the counter to find the toaster.  
If his senses are correct, which Stiles prays they aren't, there isn't one. What type of kitchen doesn't have a fucking toaster? Rubbing his eyes, he squints through the poor lighting and looks all over. Opening a cabinet, he swears for a moment he saw a familiar handle in the back and reaches for it in all his excitement. The only thing he accomplishes is knocking down a couple of pans, loud enough to wake everyone.  
Silently thanking God that no one wakes up to yell at him, Stiles rushes to put them back in a messy order and squeeze the cabinet door shut. Derek is either living under a rock or he hates everything that is good and pure in this world.  
He is not going to bed without some toast. Stiles will make some over a stove if he has to, he’s getting his damn toast. The thought has consumed him, and what started out as a simple craving has escalated into a full-on obsessive need that can drive a man to do anything to get what he needs.  
Stiles will go to war with his own damn kitchen if it means it will get him some toast.  
A small panic is forming in his mind as he looks desperately around for anything that gives off heat. An oven wouldn't turn out too great, but in a pinch, he would sacrifice the kitchen’s somewhat-clean state. A stove was there as well, but he cannot learn how to use one to save his damn life, so that may be out of the question unless there’s absolutely no other option. Maybe he could start a fire over the cutting board-  
And then he sees it. A beacon in the darkness (heh, Beacon), a shining light in the midst of trouble, a savior in his time of bread-craving need.  
The microwave. Stiles has never been happier to see one in all his life. He just needs to put some butter on a piece of bread and stick it on a plate and he’ll have his toast in no time. He gets out a small plate from the cabinet above him, spreads a thin layer of butter onto his slice of bread and sticks in in the microwave. But how long does bread need radioactive heating?  
He tries to estimate the time it takes in a normal toaster, punches in a time of two and a half minutes, and starts it up.  
Unfortunately, completely unbenounced to him, his sleep-driven brain didn't exactly punch in the right numbers, but Stiles doesn't care as he leans against the cold counter and rests his head on a cabinet door.  
In no time, his mind has drifted off into fantasies about the sleeping man in his bed. Every imaginable turn-on comes to mind; Derek’s lips pressed up against his own as the older man works on ripping apart Stiles’ clothes and hoisting him up by his hips, Stiles’ legs wrapping around his waist as their bodies move closely together, his groin bucking up into his and his mouth moving to Stiles’ neck...  
A loud popping sound erupts from the microwave and Stiles almost pees himself. Rushing over to check on his precious bread concoction, he sees a hole in the middle of his slice of bread, the edges black like they’d just been burnt. He briefly wonders what happened to the larger circle that was the middle of the bread, but he dismisses it quickly and throws open the microwave door. Not thinking, he grabs the plate with his bare hands. Of course, he hadn't expected for his hands to be assaulted by a molten fucking lava plate, so out of surprise and pain he throws it. It breaks on the ground with a loud smash.  
Jesus Christ. Stiles’ head is throbbing already. He sinks down onto a sitting position on the floor, rubbing his temples. He really should be in bed, it’s ridiculous how tired he is. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle no one has woken up from the amount of noise he’s made just trying to get one fuckin’ piece of toast. He groans into his hand.  
“You should be in bed.”  
As if his heart wasn't beating fast enough already, Derek is standing over him in nothing but boxer shorts. It scares the shit out of Stiles, but the sight of the alpha’s amazing abs does nothing to slow down his heart.  
“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.” Stiles looks up from where he’s hiding his head in his hands.  
“I can tell. I can sense your heartbeat, remember?” Derek holds out his hands and Stiles uses them to pull himself onto his feet.  
“Not sure if that’s romantic or creepy.” Stiles smiles, wrapping his hands around Derek’s neck and pulling him closer.  
“It’s a fact, either way.” Derek’s body presses itself against Stiles’ and moves to kiss his neck. Tilting his head back slightly, Stiles works to bite back a moan threatening to escape his lips. He doesn't need any more embarrassing noises waking any of his friends. He feels Derek start to laugh against his shoulder.  
“What?” He murmurs.  
“What happened in the microwave?”  
It takes Stiles all his energy not to yell out “ Fuuuuck,” but he doesn't. Derek pulls back to look him in the eyes, obviously trying not to flat-out laugh at him. He pouts in return.  
“Well if you had a toaster then I wouldn't be forced to use the microwave.”  
“You were making toast?” At that, Derek is laughing. Not cracking up, but soft laughs are shaking his shoulders, his eyes closed as he shakes his head. Stiles is still pouting at him. Derek looks at him and the pout breaks under his gaze. They’re both laughing, Stiles burying his face in Derek’s shoulder.  
“Shut up, I was starving. And craving bread.” Derek’s hand wraps around his waist slowly as he talked, which was very distracting. “Out of all the things your kitchen lacks, a toaster should not be one of them.”  
“We’ll get a toaster.” Derek’s voice is soft as he moves to kiss Stiles’ collarbone. The feeling of Derek’s hands roaming his body is something Stiles could never get enough of, not matter how many times he did it. A quiet moan passes his lips, which seemed to encourage Derek. Hands start lifting the bottom of Stiles’ shirt, slow enough to remind him how much of a tease the alpha liked to be.  
“Excuse me.” Both boys jumped at the sound of another voice at the kitchen’s door. Erica is leaning against the door frame, and Stiles wonders how long she’s been there, then decides he doesn't want to know. She has a trademark smirk on her face.  
“Would it be too much to ask you two to refrain from getting it on in the kitchen?” She asks. “You do have a room, you know.”  
Stiles doesn't need to look over to feel the heat of Derek’s glare at Erica. She raises an eyebrow at him and he rolls his eyes in return. Stiles swears sometimes, the amount of sass between the two is almost too much to bear. He grabs Derek’s wrist and leads him out of the kitchen.  
“Will do, Erica. Good night!” Stiles smiles at her on their way into the hallway, and in response Erica winks back.  
“Don’t be up too late!” She says. Derek tries to glare at her again, but Stiles has already led him around the corner and through the door back into their bedroom.  
Smiling at Derek, Stiles continued to pull on his wrist as he collapsed back onto the mattress, Derek’s body falling on top of him. Leaning up on his elbows, Derek bent his head down to plant his lips firmly onto Stiles’. Swinging an arm around his neck, Stiles reeled him in closer, their bodies moving in a mutual rhythm as his hips bucked up.  
“Seems like someone’s awake, huh?” Derek can hear the laugh in Stiles’ voice. He always does this when they’re in bed; he loves to interrupt Derek because he knows it drives him crazy, gets on his nerves, and it makes him want to shut Stiles up, take him apart until he’s practically begging for Derek. And Derek is more than happy to make Stiles beg.  
“I am now.” He helps Stiles get out of his clothes, cherishing the way his skin is more and more revealed with every piece flung onto the floor. He's so glad he doesn't have a shirt on and Stiles is kind enough to help him with his boxers. He moves back up to suck on Stiles’ neck, making sure there’s a mark when he’s done.  
“Hey, not cool dude, I have to go to work tomorrow - oh - and there’s no way I can cover that up now.” By some miracle, Stiles can form words through the pleasure ripping down his body like an electric current. He can feel Derek’s mouth form a smile against his bruising skin and dear God is it sexy.  
“Good.” Derek’s mouth is now trailing down past his collar bone at a painfully slow pace, his nails raking Stiles’ sides. “Everyone can know who you belong to.”  
“Christ, Derek, and I didn't even think possessive could be a turn on for me - shit, right there, mmm - ” Stiles was becoming a mess and there was nothing Derek liked more than to completely wreck him. A dark flush was covering his cheeks, travelling down his neck, his eyes closed and head pressing back into the bed.  
Derek could come just at the sight of it if he weren't insistent on being such a tease.  
Eventually, after what felt like ages to Stiles, Derek’s tongue made its way down to circle his hipbones. It took every ounce of willpower not to thrust upward, his fists curling tightly in the sheets.  
“Oh my God, Derek - “  
He glances up from where his mouth is relentless against Stiles’ skin and keeps his gaze while tracing his fingers just above Stiles’ groin. Derek’s eyes are glued to him as he bites down on his lower lip to keep from crying out.  
His mouth slowly forms an O as Derek moves closer to his cock, pulsing and leaking with precome. Stiles looks like he wants to say something, but Derek bends his head down to lick under the length of his erection and that shuts him up fast.  
Derek can hear his breath coming in short gasps and gradually takes his cock into his mouth, tongue flicking gently at the tip as his lips move around the length. He doesn't even have to look up to know that Stiles is embarrassingly close to coming. Feeling how ridiculously hard he is just from the taste and sound and sight of Stiles, he takes one hand off of his waist and starts to jerk himself off. The familiar pleasure builds up in his groin and apparently Stiles isn't the only one who’s getting close.  
Meanwhile, Stiles is in danger of melting into his sheets. Derek has always known just what gets Stiles going, what makes him tick in every way possible. And he uses this knowledge to his advantage any chance he gets. Stiles feels Derek’s wet tongue sliding around his cock and lets his hips buck, short, fast thrusts into Derek’s mouth that make stars explode behind his eyes. Soft moans and pants fill the air around them as Derek’s mouth moves faster, deeper, covering every inch of Stiles’ dick and he’s not able to hold out for much longer.  
“Derek, I’m - I’m gonna -” At that moment, Derek groans, and the vibration around Stiles’ dick is just what he needs to send himself over the edge. His body tenses and he can’t stop himself before coming into Derek’s mouth, hips frozen in the air and back arched. His mouth is wide open now, eyes still shut as he lets the insane pleasure crash down onto him, Derek’s mouth milking his orgasm to the last drop before pulling out.  
Derek sits up on his knees and Stiles sees him stroking his hard cock, obviously close to an orgasm. Stiles smiles at him, laying on his back and trying to get his heart rate back to a normal pace. Derek’s eyes are closed, lips pressed tightly together as if to stop him from crying out. A couple more strokes and cum is spraying all over Stiles’ chest and abs.  
Derek collapses back onto the bed to catch his breath, and Stiles loves this part, when they’re both completely wrung out and waiting for their heartbeats to slow down, laying side by side and covered in cum. There’s the electricity hanging in the air from pent-up tension being released into each other, and Stiles’ brain is fuzzy.  
Only now does he realize that they’ll probably get crap from everyone tomorrow morning about the noise content, but he’s kind of proud of that.  
He leans over to kiss Derek’s red, well-used mouth one more time before grabbing the comforter at the end of the bed and curling up next to him, already half-asleep.


End file.
